I remember Mississippi Mudcake....

I remember Mississippi Mudcake.
I remember how the icing was sun dried
and the rest was moist like the river bottom.
Paddle wheels turn like forks
making a continuous circle from plate
to mouth.

And when the fork clinks on an empty plate
I want to go back to the river.

Pride Trumps Patriotism

Deal another hand.
We play poker all day and avoid frivolous ceremony.
We fly the flag at half mast,
and our fireworks are when Eddy swears
because his three of a kind lost to a full house,
in much the same way Jackson, Longstreet and Lee
lost to McClellan, Burnside, Meade, Sherman, and Grant.
We don’t celebrate that damn Yankee holiday here in Vicksburg.

Grant just had to win on July 4th.
He must have prayed hard to take us on that day.
Then again, God wouldn’t be so cruel
as to damage the honor of a southern city like that.
Unconditional Surrender Grant was in league with the devil.

Rather than firecrackers and picnics.
we wear mourning clothes and go about our day.
This year it’s a Saturday so no one works.
We sit in the tavern, getting drunk, and losing money.
The house always wins.
The White House that is.
Southern Gentlemen play cards for fun,
and that’s just what we’ll do.

We got dealt a hand of Fourth of July’s
But we fold and quit playing
because pride trumps patriotism every time.

But what about Georgia?

There are blue bacteria swarming inside of her.
We haven’t invented germ theory yet, but I know it.
Sheridan was convinced
that rapists should be shot out of hand.
We are gentlemen after all.
But then why did we rape Savannah?

Don’t ever attack a lady.
That’s what they taught us at West Point.
You can burn her house, take her animals,
and kill her husband if he fights back.
But by God if you touch her you’ll be shot.
We’d let any Atalanta beat us in a fair fight,
so why did we rape Atlanta?